But now, her body’s speaking a language I can’t even place.

“I’m sorry for . . . Nothing he said is true. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” she says, in a voice I haven’t heard.

“Look, can we please just . . .”

Her friends close ranks, slingshotting themselves from her rear to a flanking position at either hip. “I’ll catch up with you later,” she says. “Just park in your driveway, toss the keys under the seat.”

And she knows what happens when I get behind the wheel.

“What if I keep them in my room and you come through whenever you’re ready?”

And I see this idea floating through her brain, and for a sec, she’s climbing the ladder, stepping through the window into my bedroom—

But what’s a bubble if not for bursting?

“Just leave them under the seat, okay,” she says, knowing that in all likelihood I won’t be able to leave this party.

This house.

This neighborhood.

That it’s possible I won’t even open the driver’s side door.

Yet she’s doing this anyway.

Which, maybe that’s her point.

That I need her in ways she doesn’t need me back.

That maybe I need her more:

Than she needs me.

Than I know.

“Autumn, I’ve told you things that I—”

“Apparently, you didn’t tell me everything.”

“What didn’t I tell you?”

Her eyes looking through me. “You said Quincy was just a dude. An acquaintance. But that, all that history between you two, that’s way more.”

Which, okay, is it possible I’d edited the narrative a bit—given Autumn the much-abridged version? Maybe.

But the Jamal–Quincy story arc’s still the same.

Ahem. Once upon a time, we were cool. Then he killed my parents. The end.

“Okay, so we used to be friends. Who cares?”

She points to herself. “Me, Jamal. Your girlfriend. I care.”

“Wait, so you’re getting vexed by semantics?”

“No, Jamal, I’m getting vexed by the fact that if you lied about that, which is a dumb-ass thing to lie about, then what else are you lying about?”

“You don’t get it.”

“Because you never wanted me to. What, you thought if I found out how you’d done Quincy, I’d think you were a shitty human, right?”

I roll my tongue around my cheeks. “Autumn. Please. Don’t do this. Let’s just . . . let’s just go somewhere and talk and I’ll tell you everything you wanna—”

But her voice pushes me away. “You should go, Jamal.”

And maybe it’s the full moon that’s got hearts twisted.

“For real?”

“Yeah. For real.” Somehow her friends press in even tighter.

“You gonna be that way off the strength of some salty-ass dude I used to know? Like, word? Wow, I thought you and me rocked differently.”